The Handmaiden
by TeareWall
Summary: Kotor 2. Colours of Death: Book 1. The Handmaiden sets out after the Exile and Bao-Dur hoping to find answers about herself and her of the father she never really knew. A story of love, fighting, mistrust, and misunderstandings.
1. Prologue

Book 1

Colours of Death: Blue

Prologue

* * *

I watched as the Iridonian walked by. I had heard of his horned race that covered themselves in tattoos. Tall, heavily muscled and a short temper. Ancestral traits weren't what

interested me though. The way he walked..every step was soundlessly heavy. Broad shoulders were slumped as if he carried some burden, and his essence echoed through the air as

if he were dead. A shiver ran across my skin. I had seen that walk before. It was the walk of a man who saw war, and still lived it. I skirted from shadow to shadow watching his

receding figure. Infatuation filled me, I wanted to know more about him. The way he walked, the way he moved his eyes and his soft deep voice reminded me so much of my father's. I

couldn't pick up what he and his companions were saying. Each word was a tickle on my ear. I hurried to try and stay just behind the procession. His grey skin looked dark under this

bright light. I was sure in actual light he looked as pale as the moons though. My stomach yerned hungrily for information. I needed to know this man. Somehow, someway I needed to

be close to him.


	2. Ch1 Our Oath

Book 1

Colours of Death: Blue

Ch1: Our Oath

* * *

"You do not understand what their presence here means!"

My sister slammed her fists down on the table.

I shied away.

I wasn`t used to seeing my sisters express feelings so openly. Such public displays of pure emotion were only shown in private. From outsides, emotions were expected.

Not form my family though, not from members of my race. Emotions were private thoughts, as such that was how we kept them. Private.

"This woman is the one our mistress, Atris, has warned us about since we swore our oath to her. Does that mean nothing to you?"

I gazed at the broad table all of my five sisters were arranged around. They had all been bickering for hours now. These intruders were a direct threat. Who knew when one of them

could attack us at any moment. These threats wielded lightsabers, force powers, and could bring the might of some God down on my family. I forced my face to remain straight as I

entailed the thoughts. This was what my sisters thought. If only they could be farther from the truth.

"What do you say Handmaiden."

I startled at my title.

"What do _I _say?."

My voice sounded unnatural, even to me.

"Yes," my closest sister snapped, "You were the first one our Mistress sent to watch _them."_

I looked around the centre of faces. What did they want to hear? Not what I could tell them. I lowered my eyes to the centre of the table. There sat a mysteriously obscured ornament

of some kind. I could never figure out what it was supposed to be. Art. That was all Atris had said when I asked her about it.

"I do not see what you are arguing about. That is what I say."

"What do you mean?" I could hear the frown in my oldest sister's voice.

"This exile is not the person Atris knew. The exile is broken, and years have taken their toll on her. With every step she takes you can see the wound of war. When I looked upon her

all I saw was woman. She was no fallen Jedi, and she carried no lightsaber. The companions she traveled with, I can see no threat either. A pilot, who soul interest is women. An old

woman who's age is beyond fighting. Then the Iridonian...his step is just like the Exile's. Each stride is weighed down by the blood of war and his eyes only see into the past..."

my voice trailed off as I remembered the man who caught my eye.

"You're words are woven with intricate pictures." Shell, my youngest sister next to me, whispered. I could almost detect awe in her voice.

I drug myself from my trancelike state.

"You want to know what I say? Leave these to Atris. She is our Mistress. The Mistress has set out a plan that we will only interfere with. Clearly she wishes to meet the Exile. It is not

our place to question her or to presume to protect her."

Anger snapped through the air, and my siblings' defences rose.

"We were _not _questioning Atris-."

"But you presume to protect her."

I pointed out. None of my sisters could deny me, and they hated it. Their faces were like stone statues. Everyone was void of emotion and their blue eyes were as hard as diamonds.

"I know that not one of us has forgotten those words Atris had us swear. We as the Echani people we will always stand by that oath."

I leaned back into my chair with a deep breath.

"It is not our place to kill the exile. Atris is a Jedi, as such she is the only one who can pass judgment on the exile. We are not here to protect Jedi from other Jedi.

We are here to protect the Galaxy _from _the Jedi."


End file.
